


I Can Never Leave

by cliffordxcolors



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cliffordxcolors/pseuds/cliffordxcolors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael loved Luke. He always told himself that things wouldn't be like this. That he and Luke would be fine. That one day, they would go back to the way they were. But Michael was used to things never going the way he wanted them to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys(: So this is going to be my new fanfiction and if you like it then I guess that's cool and if you don't ship muke than you shouldn't read it. I hope you like it and stuff 
> 
> also its sort of based on the song Hold Onto Me by Mayday parade so like yeah have fun

Prologue-

Michael hated mornings. But this wasn't the hate that normal people feel. This was the kind of hate where Michael would dread to wake up. And sure, you could say that Michael hated mornings because of how grumpy he always got, or because his bed was so comfy that he dreaded pushing back the soft blankets and touching his feet the cold floor. But that wasn't really it.

Michael hated mornings because they were lonely. They were cold. They weren't the same.

He hated how, even through his layers of shirts, he could still feel the empty places on his body where Luke's hands should be. Where they last were, wrapped around him as they fell asleep.

He hated how he could still feel Luke's hot breath on his neck. The smell of smoke would drift to his nose as his boyfriend whispered "I love you," before he fell asleep.

He hated how he never heard that "I love you," until night time, when Luke would come home, occasionally drunk or high, and collapse into bed. He was used to Luke coming home like this. Smelling of alcohol, or whatever drug he and his no-good friends were doing that night.

Michael hated it.

But Michael loved Luke. Probably a little too much for his own good.

\------------

The nights where Luke stayed home with Michael were what Michael loved. He got to see the soft, cuddly side of Luke that Luke never showed anyone.

Luke and all his tattoos, his lip piercing, his band t shirts that Michael love to wear. Their relationship even confused Michael.

On days when Luke didn't feel like getting drunk, or didn't want to go out with his friends to smoke weed or whatever the hell they do, Luke and Michael would be inseparable.

Luke would wake up to Michael wearing one of his heavy black sweaters that Luke loved to snuggle up against. They just smelled so...Michael, and Luke couldn't get enough.

These were the only days that Michael liked. He wouldn't have to be cold, because Luke was like a heater. He wouldn't have to be alone, because he would wake up with Luke's arms protectively around him, his face buried in Luke's chest, where he knew there were quite a few tattoos scattered around there.

They would tangle themselves up on the couch, Michael's smaller body resting on too of Luke's as some movie played on the tv.

The two never really payed attention, though. It's not like they didn't want to watch the movie, it was just that Michael was right there, with his big, innocent green and eyes and perfectly kissable red lips and Luke honestly tried to pay attention to the movie, but we'll just say that they never really ever got to see how the movie ended.

Days like these were why Michael was in love with Luke.

And days like these were when Michael forgot about the terrible mornings.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi(: Here is chapter 1, and I'm sorry if there is any mistakes, I'm going to edit it and stuff later. Hope you enjoy(:

Chapter 1-

Michael wasn't sure which was heavier and harder to deal with. His backpack that was overflowing with work that he had put off, or his mind that was constantly overflowing with thoughts.

Michael has always been a procrastinator. He always tried to push everything he had to get done out of his mind, making even more room for thoughts, good and bad ones, which wasn't always a good thing. When the time got nearer for him to finish what he has been putting off, the thoughts about how he will never get those things done find a place in his mind, joining the miscellaneous thoughts already in his mind, leaving no space for him to think clearly. These nights usually end up sleepless, occupied by finishing his work, headaches, and a lot of thinking. He doesn't even know why he procrastinates so bad. It's more than the laziness his mother is convinced causes it. It might be because the only friend he has right now was his boyfriend, who was rarely around during the day, so he had no one else to talk to, which resulted in having so much to say, which is probably why had so many thoughts.

Michael sometimes questioned why he moved so far to go to this school. At the time, it seemed like a great idea. He could get a job, and live with his boyfriend, Luke, and get a good education. But he's been finding it hard to get a job when he was swimming in homework up to his neck. Michael is usually alone during the day, too. He would see Luke in the morning, see his beautiful face slowly come to life after a few hours of sleep. Michael rarely slept, and when he did he would try to wake up before Luke, just to make sure he saw him and to give him a short good morning kiss, even though they both had terrible morning breath. Luke would then leave, go to his one class in the morning, go to his job, and then another class after that. He moved so far to be with Luke, but he had ended up seeing him less and less.

After Michael's classes, he would always come straight home. There was really no reason for him to stay out later than needed. He had work to put off and a mind that would soon be consumed by his thoughts. He knew Luke's classes didn't go very late, either, but Luke would usually stay out with his friends, because he "didn't want to interrupt Michael doing his homework". Michael knew that Luke had better things to do than stay at home with his shy little boyfriend.

Luke would be smoking and getting high around the least populated parts of the city where they lived. Michael could smell the smoke on his clothes and taste it on his tongue. He heard how giggly Luke would sometimes be, probably from some type of drug. It didn't immensely worry Michael that first couple times Luke came home like that.

The thing that bothered Michael the most, and this sounds stupidly selfish, was that Luke preferred to get high and smoke with his friends instead of with his god damn boyfriend. Michael tried not to let it bother him. He really did.

 

When he gave up trying to do homework, he would think of other colors to dye his perpetually-changing-colors hair. If he was desperate to put off school work enough, and he had a bad enough headache from all the thinking, he would even go outside to a store and buy new hair dye.

\---------------

After Michael had successfully not gotten black and purple hair dye all over the bathroom, he went to try and finish the two essays that were due tomorrow. Both of which he hadn't started yet. He wished that he hadn't procrastinated, and then he promised himself that the next assignment he was given, he would do it the first night it was assigned. Michael laughed at his own thoughts sometimes.

After about an hour and a half of continuous writing, checking the time, thinking, and checking the time again, he finally finished his first essay. Michael decided that, after and hour and a half of that hell, he deserved a break.

It was past midnight, and all Michael could think about was Luke. Luke was usually home by now. Luke would be stumbling in through the door, his blond hair all messy, his cheeks red from the cold. He would help Michael put his school stuff away, steal a few kisses, and then drag his boyfriend up to their shared bed, where they would fall asleep, Michael's back flush against Luke's strong chest. Luke's arms always felt protective and safe, and it was one of the times where Michael was glad he moved here. Luke's cigarette breath was always soft against Michael's pale skin.

Michael tried not to worry. After all, Luke was a whole two years older than him. He could take care of himself and he didn't need his worried boyfriend calling him, while he was probably having a good time with his friends.

Michael tried not to worry. He really did. But Michael worried a lot.

What if Luke is hurt?

He couldn't stop himself from jumping to the worst conclusions. Michael hated that about himself. He worried so much that, after thinking of even worse things that could have happened to Luke, he picked up his phone and clicked Luke's name.

The phone rang, and Michael's stomach was in knots when Luke didn't answer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter three(: Hope it's no too bad

Michael worried enough as it is. His already close-to-overflowing mind could barley handle the worry for Luke that was eating away at Michael by the second. If something happened to Luke, Michael didn't know what he would do. Luke kept him safe, kept Michael's mind off of all the things that have gone wrong in his life.

Michael wanted to cry. He wanted to break down. But Luke wasn't here to comfort him.

Luke still wasn't answering. The annoying ring of the phone was all Michael heard in the empty apartment. Michael usually liked silence, being someone who would rather listen than speak most of the time, but this kind of silence was terrible. It felt like it was wrapping him up, suffocating him, crushing his lungs. Michael could barley breathe.

Michael couldn't hold it in any longer.

He let the tears roll down his pale cheeks, the worry for his Luke becoming too much for him to handle. His mind jumped to the worst possible conclusions.

What if he got hit by a car? What if he was so drunk or high that he just wandered into the street?

Michael sobbed even louder at the thought of his boyfriend lying hurt in the road, only to be taken away in an ambulance, that would hook him up to so many horrible machines and they probably wouldn't even let Michael seen him and oh god. 

Michael hated hospitals. He fucking hated them.

Michael kept ringing Luke, and every time he didn't get an answer, his vision got cloudier with tears and his mind kept thinking up even more awful things that could have happened to Luke.

Michael was a mess. He was sobbing on the slightly torn up couch in the living room, curled up against the arm of the couch, repeatedly pressing Luke's name on his phone. Giving himself false hope that Luke would pick up.

And it didn't help that it had just started to rain.

Now Michael knew that his Luke could be somewhere outside, possibly in trouble or hurt, in the freezing rain.

And Michael had had enough.

Once he became sick of the sound of his phone calling Luke, with the accumulating poundingrain in the background, he decided to go look for Luke himself.

His eyes were red and raw from crying and his hands were shaking, but he laced up his shoes and put a jacket over his dark sweater, then put a grey beanie over his newly died hair.

'This is Luke's beanie,' he thought.

And Michael mentally slapped himself, because he is making it sound like Luke is dead. And Luke is not dead.

He put his phone in his pocket and ventured out of the door, walking down the steps of the apartment building and out into the dark, dreary, city that Michael only thought looked beautiful when it was raining, when the delicate raindrops would drip from the street signs, just like they would drip from Luke's eyelashes when he'd just gotten out of the shower. That thought made Michael want to see Luke's eyes again, the bright, beautiful shade of blue that was delicately framed by long eyelashes that Michael rarely got to see clearly because he always saw Luke at night.

It's only been a few hours since Michael has seen Luke, but add that to the countless other days he has gone without seeing his boyfriend, and yeah, Michael missed Luke. He missed him a hell of a lot. 

 

\------

 

Michael has been walking for about a half hour. The rain hasn't slowed down. Not at all.

He's never walked around this part of the city, and he's 100 percent sure that if he could pick to either stay in that awful, falling apart, apartment all day, where all he really did was get lost in his own thoughts, or spend a night in this part of town, he'd easily pick to stay home.

Is this where Luke went every day? He'd rather spend his nights in this awful place than be with his boyfriend? 

 

This part of the city was made of dark, dark alleyways and remains of cigarettes scattered everywhere. The streetlights were either burnt out or flickering, which made it twice as dark as everywhere else in the city.

Michael wrapped his arms around himself even tighter. He was alone in a bad place and all he wanted was for Luke to protect him. But Luke might be the one who needed protecting right now.

There weren't many people walking around here. The occasional car would drive by, though, so Michael knew that if someone tried to murder him, or steal all of his clothes, or whatever bad people did to people like Michael, he could try to get a passing car's attention. This thought wasn't that comforting, though. In fact, it just made him think of all the terrible, horrible things that could happen to him here. Rational and irrational.

Michael would peek into every alleyway, and all of the ones he looked into were empty besides all of the trash people carelessly throw in them.

'You're so stupid, Michael.' He thought to himself. 'Luke is probably home, wondering where you are, and his phone probably died so he couldn't answer your calls.' 

Michael debated turning back around, when he heard someone groan, as if in pain.

He ran to where he heard the noise coming from, and looked into the alley. He saw a curled up body, and heard another groan coming from it.

He'd know that voice anywhere. 

"Luke!" Michael yelled, running to the boy and kneeling down next to him. Luke's arm was covering his face, and his knees were pulled up to his chest, making the usually over 6 foot boy look small.

"Luke, oh my god are you okay?" Michael wanted to cry because his Luke looked so in pain, groaning and curled up on the dirty, disgusting ground in a dark, dreary city, soaked by the freezing rain.

"Mikey? What the hell are you doing here?" Luke removed his arm from his face, revealing an awful black eye and cuts scattered around his face.

"I got really worried and I tried calling you but- holy shit what happened to your face?" Michael bent down and grabbed Luke's face in his hands, earning a whimper of pain from the older boy.

"Michael, you need to leave. Please." Luke stared into Michael's eyes, and the streetlights were so dim that he could barley tell that Michael's eyes were raw and red from crying, but he still saw it. And it made him feel terrible for worrying his boyfriend so much. But it just wasn't safe for Michael here.

"You're crazy if you think I'm leaving you alone in a place like this." Michael stubbornly said, confused as to why Luke didn't want Michael's help when he was obviously hurt.

"I'll be home soon, it's just- I was really fucking stupid and got mixed up with some bad people and I made them mad and if they see you they'll hurt you too."

Luke couldn't live with himself if these people hurt Michael. His Michael, the boy that he loved so damn much, but who he rarely got to see anymore because of his own stupid decisions. He didn't deserve someone like Michael.

Michael opened his mouth to respond, but then heard heavy footsteps, mixed with the splashing of puddles. He looked up and saw the dark outlines of three huge men.

"Who the fuck are you?" One of them yelled, obviously directed at Michael.

"Get out of here. Now." Luke mumbled to Michael. Michael hesitated. He couldn't leave Luke to possibly get hurt by these people.

"I promise I'll be fine. Go home, got to sleep, and I'll be there when you wake up. I swear, Mikey." Luke looked straight into Michael's eyes, and Michael just knew that Luke was telling the truth. He had to be.

 

So Michael let go of Luke's bruised face and ran.


	4. Chapter 4

Michael has always hated running. 

He's hated it since primary school, where he would be the only kid who would sit in the grass while all the other kids ran around. 

He's hated it since middle school, where he would always get yelled at everyday in gym class for walking instead of running the laps they were supposed to do in the beginning of the awful class. 

He's hated running since high school, where he would always over sleep, having not fallen asleep until usually three in the morning, due to his damn procrastinating. Michael ended up running to school most days, and he would make his grand entrance into home room with his disheveled clothes, red cheeks, and out-of-breathness, which really sucked because that meant everyone staring at him as he walked to his seat in the back of the room.

And he especially hated running right now. But he's never felt himself run faster.

Michael didn't even want to listen to Luke. He didn't want to run. He wanted to stand up and beat the living shit out of the guys who hurt Luke. He wanted to beat them up and leave them to lay on the hard ground, just like they did to Luke. 

But then Michael realized that the men who beat Luke up we're twice the size of himself. The men were huge, their arms seemed wider than Michael's leg, and were covered in tattoos. Michael felt awfully scrawny compared to them. 

So here Michael was, running through a dark city. And he felt terrible for leaving Luke. But Luke was strong, and Michael knew that. Now all he had to do was sit in that lonely apartment and wait for the only thing that made it feel not so lonely to come back.

Michael entered the dark apartment, quickly turning on the lights and shedding the heavy jacket he had on that got soaked from the pouring rain as well as his shoes.

He sat on the falling-apart couch in his damp black sweater and jeans. He didn't have the energy to change out of his wet clothes. All he wanted was Luke. 

But then his thoughts began to take over his mind. 

_What if Luke wasn't coming home?_

_What if those men beat him up so bad that he passed out?_

_What if Luke was de-_

Michael forced his mind to shut up at that point. Luke was fine. Luke promised.

And suddenly Michael felt that the air was being drained from the small apartment. His head was hurting, and he was breathing fast. The collar on his sweater suddenly felt like it was choking him. 

And he _needed_ Luke. He needed Luke to hold him, so he could rest his head against Luke's strong, tattooed chest and Luke would help him calm his breathing down. Michael needed to hear Luke's soft heartbeat. He needed Luke to sing to him. He needed to be with Luke. _His_ Luke. The Luke that seemed tough and strong, but when he was with Michael, he was probably the biggest cuddler Michael has ever met. 

Michael didn't even realize the tears streaming down his face until he felt one drip onto his shaking hand. He pulled on his newly dyed hair, knocking off the beanie he had on-Luke's beanie. He tried to calm himself down, but pretty much only person who could do that was Luke. 

\-------------

Hours later, about 2 AM, Michael was woken by a soft knock on the door. He nearly fell off the couch in his attempt to get to the door. It was Luke. Luke was home. 

Michael opened the door, and a soaked, tall boy fell into his arms. 

"Luke-" Michael breathed, leading Luke over to the couch. He laid the boy down, his head resting on the pillow that Michael was laying on only minutes before. 

"L-Luke, you have to take your hands off your face." Michael stuttered, he wasn't good in situations like this. Luke was covering his face, and Michael knew that it was covered in bruises, maybe even blood. "I-I can't h-help you of you don't let me see." 

Luke slowly took his hands away, and Michael's face paled. Luke looked even worse than when Michael found him only a few hours ago. 

"Oh, Lukey." Michael whispered, softly placing his hand on Luke's cheek. 

"Mikey, I'm fine, it's just a couple bruises." Luke put his hand on top of Michael's, intertwining their fingers.

Michael realized that Luke's hands had cuts and bruises on them, as well. 

"No your not, Luke. They made a punching bag of you." What did Luke even do to them? Michael was scared to ask. 

"It's not like I didn't let them get away without giving them a couple bruises." Luke said, defensively. 

Michael stood up, disconnecting their hands, and walked into the tiny kitchen to get something cold for Luke to put on his bruises. He found a few ice packs and made his way back to where Luke was on the couch. 

"Mikey, I'm fine, I swear. We could just go lay down and cuddle or something." Michael knew that Luke hated showings weakness to anyone. And he knew that Luke wasn't fine when he placed the ice pack on one of Luke's bruised cheeks and Luke winced. 

"I-I just wanted to help you." Michael looked down, and he could feel the tears from earlier clouding his vision. "I hate seeing you hurt." He mumbled. 

"Babe, I'm sorry-please don't cry." Luke softly took Michael's face in his hands, looking into those big green eyes. "How about we go upstairs and we can cuddle or do whatever you want and you can take care of me tomorrow?" Luke suggested, knowing that if he promised that he would be with Michael tomorrow, Michael would agree. 

"O-okay." Michael leaned in to kiss Luke, but realized the dried blood under his nose and on his lips and quickly pulled away. "But I'm not kissing you until you clean the blood off your face." Michael giggled, helping Luke off of the couch. 

Michael walked to their room while Luke cleaned off his face. 

Michael changed into one of Luke's sweaters, a grey one that was big on Luke, so it practically swallowed Michael. He took off his still-damp black jeans and stayed in his boxers. 

Luke walked back into their room, his face clean, and shed all his clothes besides his boxers and turned to look at Michael, who was cuddled up in the blanket they had in their bed. 

Luke looked in those wide eyes and he couldn't hold back a smile. He suddenly felt awful for rarely being home with Michael. But, he just _couldn't_ tell Michael where he went every day. It was to protect Michael, though. 

He softly got into bed with Michael, pulling the smaller boy close to his bruised chest. 

"Hi." Michael giggled, his eyes sparkling, even in the dark room. 

"Hey, cutie." Luke smiled, leaning in and attaching his lips to Michael's soft ones. They kissed for a little bit, until Michael pulled back and yawned. 

"You dyed your hair again." Luke said, running his hand through Michael's black hair with bits of purple in it. 

"Do you like it?" Michael asked, nuzzling his nose into Luke's neck, kissing his skin softly. 

"I love any color you dye your hair, babe" and it was true. Luke loved how Michael couldn't keep a hair color for long, how he could have blue hair one week and a few weeks later, he'll have dyed his hair bright pink. It was also really adorable to watch Michael dye his hair. Michael would get frustrated because of not being able to reach the back of his head, and he would get this cute little pout on his face, and he would make Luke help him, which Luke loved. 

While Luke was lost in his thoughts, he didn't even realize Michael fall asleep, his face tucked into Luke's neck, and their legs intertwined. 

Luke had to hold himself back from 'awww-ing' at Michael's cute breathing. He wrapped his arms around Michael and kissed his freshly-dyed hair, falling asleep not long after.


End file.
